(Contains graphic sexual and BDSM depictions, including ballbusting, male and female chastity, edging, fellatio, ruined orgasm threats, an anal plug, and electric play. There's also a brief reference to psychological sexual trauma. This story takes place in a forced chastity dystopia where uncoerced consent is effectively impossible, but all characters gain enjoyment from the scenes depicted and are over 18. Some activities may be unsafe to recreate. For the reading pleasure of interested adults only.)
***
It was the third and final morning of Kristen's debt recovery punishment.
She had not slept for more than an hour at a time since being fitted with the electric pasties, which shocked her nipples to a state of painful hardness at more or less random intervals. Her ass was sore from the near-constant presence of a sizeable anal plug, and she was even more restlessly horny now than she had been after six weeks of simple sexual deprivation.
At the end of today's appointment, she would be allowed to remove the punishment devices, leaving only her basic chastity device and a fresh pair of plain, pleasure-proof pasties -- something she had never imagined she could look forward to.
Officer Deacon was taking her time with the appointment. Kristen felt as if they'd been sitting on these hard folding chairs in their usual meeting room for at least an hour, with the locked back panel of her chastity device forcing the plug in especially deeply. Her pasties had punished her twice in that time.
Officer Deacon had acknowledged this only with a faintly sympathetic nod before moving on with her checklist.
As uncomfortable as Kristen was, though, she could never
completely
wish for her time with Officer Deacon to end. The officer questioned her in a solicitous, nonjudgmental tone, even about her worst failures and transgressions. She listened attentively to the answers, eyes clear behind her angular glasses, soft lips occasionally pressing together against an impulse to laugh, or maybe even relate.
Aside from being stunning to look at, Officer Deacon had quickly become the only person in Kristen's life who really knew how much she was struggling with the transition to adulthood under the Bureau's management. She was the only one Kristen could really talk to about the desires and frustrations that dominated most of her thoughts.
The officer could turn on a dime at any moment, become the hardened disciplinarian her job required, but even in those moments, Kristen was as fascinated as she was intimidated. The authority this beautiful, twenty-something-year-old woman could wield, while wearing a clinging gray dress and a chastity device of her own, was something Kristen wanted to touch, bottle, take a bath in.
"Your discipline compliance is looking good," said Officer Deacon, scrolling through the notes on her tablet. "No complications or irregularities at all. Let's do your sensory test."
The officer opened one of the wall panels behind her, pulled out a foil snack package, and set it on the bolted-down steel table between them.
"Open it," she said.
Bracing herself to learn what sort of treat she would be taunted with today, Kristen peeled back the foil to find six Oreos inside.
"You monster," she said, only half joking, but keeping her voice carefully light. She had been investigating the officer's tolerance for sass and found a fair bit of slack, so long as nothing Kristen said technically broke any rules.
"Some are real," Officer Deacon gave the usual explanation. "Some are unflavored textural imitations, stored with the real ones to absorb their fragrance. Sort them into two piles for me."
Mechanically, Kristen nibbled the edge of each cookie and placed them in two stacks, completely at random. Under the influence of the experimental injection she had volunteered for, they were all equally flavorless to her, their decadent aroma an unsatisfying lie.
Officer Deacon took notes on her selections. "Are you experiencing any pleasure?"
"Still no," Kristen answered.
The officer nodded and took another note. "Have you noticed any side effects since we administered the treatment?"
"Not unless you count vivid dreams about mashed potatoes," said Kristen.
Officer Deacon finished up her notes and set the tablet aside for the moment.
"Was it worth it?" she asked, as she had at every follow-up appointment.
Kristen answered the same way she had each time. "For a release that didn't even keep me comfortable for an hour? Probably not. To have you as my case manager? Yes."
"You have dangerous taste," the officer told her, with a shake of her head and a distinctly flattered smile.
Kristen was fairly sure that smile got bigger, less controlled, every time they had this conversation.
"At least I have
some
kind of taste left," Kristen joked.
Officer Deacon wrestled her smile back into its cold customer service shape.
"Was there anything else you wanted my help with today?" she finally reached her usual closing question, picking up her tablet again.
Kristen stifled a sigh, aware of all the varied implements of pleasure stored neatly behind the blank wall panels, along with the implements of pain.
There was plenty she wanted help with.
She felt like she would have done almost anything for a bit of help touching her clit inside its steel prison, but that was how she'd ended up in debt in the first place -- after blowing two hundred and twelve merit points.
Today, she had a grand total of eighteen points to her name, all of them awarded for undereating, which was more of a habit brought on by her chastened tongue than an act of self-restraint. Once the first week of the injection trial was over, she would have the option to extend it for more points, but that was currently her only prospect. Her low total and sleep deprived state had made it impossible for her to find work while serving out her punishment.
"No, at least nothing I can afford," Kristen answered with the required honesty. "Thank you."
"All right, let's get you back to your baseline configuration," Officer Deacon directed, returning to the wall panel for a bottle of hand sanitizer and a fresh pair of pasties.
Kristen removed her clothes and gratefully accepted the bottle, to help her peel off the electric pair.
Just as she was working the edges off her skin, they went off again, drawing a startled cry of, "fuck!" from Kristen's lips.
"Oh, sorry about that," said Officer Deacon, fiddling with the control program on her tablet with an unapologetic smirk.
Kristen finished peeling them off in a painful hurry.
With another command of the officer's fingers, the back panel of Kristen's chastity device unlatched from the rest of the structure.
"Bend over the table," Officer Deacon directed.
Kristen obeyed, so that the officer could circle around and, with gloved hands, extract the thick, rubbery plug.
The moment the plug left Kristen's body was a punishment all its own, a blend of relief, re-bruising of her exhausted hole, and tingles of arousal she could do nothing about.
Officer Deacon gave her a cursory cleaning and then removed the gloves.
"Sit," she said.
Kristen did so.
The officer lifted one of Kristen's naked breasts in her smooth, ungloved hands.
Goosebumps broke out all down Kristen's arms in response to the rare skin-to-skin contact, and she fought down the familiar urge to kiss Officer Deacon.
The officer was careful not to make any direct contact with Kristen's fiercely hard nipple, as she pressed the first of the plain pasties into place.
"I did have another proposal for you," Officer Deacon said casually, lifting Kristen's other breast.
Kristen's whole body clenched, preparing for anything it might possibly be. "What's that, officer?"
Officer Deacon considered her words as she smoothed on the second pastie.
"Would it be accurate to say that you're... discontent with your current level of control in this office? Perhaps in your life in general?"
Kristen froze as two of her most crucial survival skills -- honesty and praising the Bureau -- came into conflict.
